Oceanside Marine (Kendall Family Book 4)

by Jennifer Ann

  I saw some weird shit when stationed overseas, but the drunk tank makes all that look like child’s play. First I notice the god-awful rank smell before almost running into an old guy covered in vomit who’s waiting to be admitted. A string of bile rises in my throat. Why couldn’t the little shit have gotten himself arrested back in Brooklyn?

  “Sorry I’m late,” Connor huffs from behind me. “Took the wrong exit off the subway.” When I turn to face him, his lips are screwed up with a scowl as he’s taking everything in. “Shit. This must be what rock-bottom looks like. Have you figured out what you’re going to say to him?”

  “I’ll probably just let him vent,” I answer, shrugging.

  We stand near the reception desk a few minutes longer before a uniformed man escorts Allen out from a secured door. The poor kid looks like total shit—red rimmed eyes, scruffy hair, discolored bruise forming on his cheek, khakis and dress shirt from the wedding wrinkled and stained with droplets of blood. All at once I’m glad Katie didn’t have to come down here to see her son like this.

  I hold my breath when he discovers me standing next to his brother. Surprise registers in his expression, but I take it as a good sign when he doesn’t appear hostile.

  Connor hustles over to them, telling the officer he’s Allen’s brother and I’m a family friend. Allen stares at the floor while Connor signs the paperwork, and he doesn’t say a word until the three of us are headed out the door together.

  “Thanks for coming to get me,” he mumbles.

  “How does the other guy look?” I ask, nudging him with my elbow.

  His bloodshot eyes meet mine. “They said I broke his nose.”

  “Any other damage?”

  “It’s the only hit I got in before they broke us up and called the cops.”

  “You’ll probably just get community service and a fine,” I tell him. “Don’t sweat it.”

  “Why are you here?” he blurts, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk. “Did you come to rub it in my face that I fucked up?”

  I glance Connor’s way, but he motions for me to have at it, so I say, “No judgments here. I’ve made my share of bad decisions over the years. Your brother told me you needed someone to come get you, and he was worried your mom would shit bricks when she found out you were arrested. He figured you could use a mutual friend to talk to.”

  With a shake of his head, he suddenly looks…sad. “Fucking my mom doesn’t make you my friend.”

  “I get that you’re mad, Allen, but if you keep saying shit like that, things will get real ugly between us. I’m sure this will seem weird to you because she’s so much older than me, but I love your mom and care about her more than I can put into words. If you can respect that, then we won’t have a problem.”

  Mouth held in a tight line, Allen’s gaze flips between me and his brother. “Is this for real?”

  “Yeah it’s for real, so I’d appreciate it if you could stop making our relationship sound cheap.”

  “He makes mom happy,” Connor tells him. “What does it matter if they’re not the same age? Why do you have such a problem with Braden?”

  “Because he’s not old enough to take the place of our dad!” Allen snaps in a shaking voice.

  “I don’t want to take your dad’s place,” I promise. “Even if your mom and I decided one day to get married, I wouldn’t expect you to call me anything other than Braden. I know your relationship with your dad is shit, but I’m not going to swoop into your lives and pretend I can make up for the fact that he was never around. If anything, I could be a friend to help you through whatever shit you’re not ready to share with your mom.”

  Allen swipes at his eyes so quickly that I’m sure he’s embarrassed to be seen crying. “You really love her?”

  “Yeah,” I answer with a stern nod. “I really do. That’s why I’m willing to do whatever it takes for you to like me at this point. We got along fine before I started seeing your mom, so it seems pretty obvious what’s going on here. You don’t hate me, you hate the situation I’ve put you in. I’m sorry, Allen. I wish you hadn’t found out the way you did. You should’ve had time to adjust to the idea, but it was thrown in your face. That’s not how I wanted this to go down.”

  Again wiping at his eyes, Allen draws his gaze over to the light traffic beside us. Considering he seems less and less aggressive, I’m optimistic that he’ll eventually accept that I want way more from his mom than a good time.

  Connor moves over to his side, patting his brother’s shoulder. “Let’s grab something to eat while the three of us work on a game plan. Mom won’t be half as mad if you can admit to her that you’ve screwed up and have an idea of how you’re going to fix things.”

  Over heaping plates of pancakes, scrambled eggs, and bacon, Allen eventually opens up and tells us everything about the past few months. It’s worse than we thought, considering he was often going to classes drunk, and was even involved in a B&E with some dicks he met at a frat party. With every confession it becomes clear he’s regretful of his choices and wants to turn his life around. I’m even convinced all this has to do with the fact that he felt unwanted because of his jackass of a dad.

  But he nearly blows me the fuck away when he starts asking detailed questions about my time in the Marines. “Are you glad you joined?” he finally asks.

  I lean forward to meet his gaze over the table. “Are you asking because you think it’s something you might want to do?”

  “Seriously, Allen?” Connor pipes in.

  Glancing at his brother, he shrugs. “Maybe…it’d beat the hell out of the track I’m on now.”

  “If you really are serious, I can take you to meet with a recruiter,” I offer with my eyebrows raised. “They’d be able to answer your questions better.”

  Allen hangs his head a little lower, drawing his gaze down to his empty plate. “I’m sorry I’ve been a dick to you. Guess I have some things to work out.”

  Reaching across the table, I hold out my fist for him to bump. “Apology accepted. Sounds like you’ve been having a hard enough time dealing with your own shit. I get it, man. Next time don’t think of me as the enemy and I’ll help you out in any way I can. I’m hoping the three of us can always be this chill when we hang together. I’ve always liked you guys.”

  His eyes draw up to meet mine. “So you’re still planning to date our mom?”

  “I sure as hell hope so…as long as I can get your blessing anyway. I’m letting you know right now that I’m dead serious about wanting to stay in her life—I love that woman like fucking crazy. But I’ll walk away if it’s going to break up your family. Your mom has made it clear you two come first, and I totally respect that. More than anything I want her to be happy.”

  Allen slowly leans back in the booth and drops his head back, looking over at me down the bridge of his nose. “It’s just weird, you know? She hasn’t brought anyone home all this time, and when she finally does it’s someone young enough to be our brother. I don’t know how anyone can be expected to wrap their head around that.”

  “I can give you space to process, if that’s what you need. Your call, Allen. If you want me to back off for awhile, I’ll fly back to California by myself so you and your mom can sort this out without me around.”

  His eyebrows lift. “You’d really do that?”

  Meeting his gaze, I give him a hard nod. “Yeah. I’m not going to shove the idea of me and your mom down your throat. You need to deal with it in your own time.”

  A painful burn ricochets through my chest with the idea of leaving Katie behind, even if it’s only for a few weeks, but I’m not going to push him just like I’m unwilling to push her. I sure the fuck hope whatever the kid chooses doesn’t involve me going home alone.

  Chapter 17

  ANGELINA

  Something wakes me with a terrible shiver. I open my eyes, finding it still dark outside. I don’t think it was a person or a nightmare that woke me so much as my heavy conscience. These days
it’s been much heavier than usual.

  Once I take in my surroundings—nothing more than mere shadows of furniture visible from a light shining through a set of double hung widows—I can’t remember who’s bed I’m in. When I pat the mattress at my side, finding my cell phone rather than a warm body, I let out a relieved breath. At least come morning there won’t be any awkward moments where I can’t remember some random guy’s name. Not that it happens a lot, but it wouldn’t be the first time, and the day before is one big blur of memories.

  Pushing the home button on my phone, I wince when the glowing blue light blasts my face and a sudden headache rips through my skull with the force of a chainsaw. I swipe my thumb over the screen to enter my password. Over the picture of the devastatingly handsome man I can’t seem to let go, the current temperature for New York is displayed and everything clicks into place.

  Oh shit, that’s right. Braden brought me back to Nolan and Sofia’s.

  The reality that I’m still stuck in New York for a couple more days brings an unexpected rush of tears. Seeing my siblings doing exceptionally well, living in gorgeous homes while madly in love and starting little families, has been the equivalent of hanging around in the nine circles of Hell. It was already enough that my career has taken a major dive downward and the man I was sure I’d marry left me for a younger model. I didn’t need a glaring reminder of the degree to which my life has begun to suck.

  For what feels like hours I toss and turn, unable to escape my misery. Blurry-eyed, I finally rise from the bed, discovering I’d passed out in my underwear. I throw on the blouse I wore to the church the day before, and start for the bathroom in search of a pain reliever. Dim lights running along the floor show a hallway filled with identical doors. Between my apparent confusion and the layout of Sofia and Nolan’s ridiculously large carriage house, I find myself standing in one of the other four guest bedrooms.

  Staring at a dark-haired man sprawled out on a bed, stomach down.

  Naked.

  I suck in a deep breath as pleasure zings through my body.

  Despite the late hour, there’s still enough moonlight cast through the windows to reveal favorable features of the massive body covered in colorful ink. I’m normally not one to go for a guy with tattoos and actually prefer my men lean, wearing tailored suits. But hot damn those thick muscular arms and that beautifully sculpted ass are not something you’d find on a businessman who spends his days sitting in a multi-million dollar skyscraper. The body can only belong to someone who sees it as a temple and puts in overtime to keep it in prime shape.

  Something pinches in my chest when I imagine myself worshipping every inch of the man, running my tongue along his smooth back while my fingertips take their time exploring every glorious dip and bend. I imagine someone like him would be wild and commanding in the sack, unlike the quiet and reserved lovers I’ve become accustomed to.

  I can’t remember the last time I’ve felt this unequivocally turned on.

  My fingers slip down my stomach and past the lace of my panties, ready to relieve the tension building between my legs. I practically jump in surprise. What the hell am I doing? What if someone sees me? Then again, what if I’m still asleep, having an erotic dream? Admittedly my head’s a little messed up, and it’s been far too long since I’ve been touched by anyone else.

  The beautiful man squirms around on the mattress before his head lifts. The whites of two eyes stare back at me.

  “Angie?” Before I can clear the lump in my throat to answer, he’s springing to his feet, primed for action. Only I don’t think it’s the kind of action I’m fantasizing over. He looks more likely to kick someone’s ass. “What’s wrong?”

  As he’s far beyond the point of modesty, there’s no stopping my eyes from dragging down his fine form to the impressively large cock thickening right before my eyes. I bite down on my lips, having been with enough men to know someone that size is a rarity. Not necessarily too long to be uncomfortable, but the right amount of girth to provide serious pleasure.

  Realizing that I’m spending far too much time staring at his growing hard-on, my eyes flip back upward to meet his. Embarrassment floods my warm cheeks once my brain catches up with my throbbing libido.

  I’ve been ogling Asher.

  As James’s best friend, he spent a lot of time hanging out at the farm when we were growing up. Not only that, but he was only three grades below me in our painfully small school, so I knew him fairly well. Too well to openly stare at his naked body, no matter how impressively gorgeous it may be.

  Even though he’s smirking, apparently amused by my gawking, his eyes still seem heavy with concern. “Are you still feeling sick?”

  “I…just have a…uh…headache.” I look over my shoulder into the hallway, wishing it could swallow me up and save me from this nightmare. “I must’ve been half asleep when I was looking for the bathroom.”

  When I turn back, his eyes are slowly running down my bare legs. There’s no missing the desire thick in his expression, especially when I glance down to see he’s become rock hard. I’m pretty sure he was hard while we were dancing at the reception, and I’ll admit it was kind of hot. The insane urge to jump into his bulging arms and let him do bad things to my body has me biting down on my bottom lip so hard that I expect to taste blood.

  Our eyes meet again, and he frowns with apparent annoyance. “Let me throw some shorts on and I’ll whip up something down in the kitchen so you don’t have to deal with a shit hangover in the morning.”

  I pull in a deep breath, ready to tell him my misery isn’t alcohol-related, but decide it’d be nice to have his company since I won’t be sleeping anytime soon.

  “Oh right,” I reply. “James mentioned you’re bartending at Roadrunners.”

  Eyes flickering to the ceiling, he shrugs. “It’s just a temporary thing until something better comes along.”

  When he turns away, starting for a duffle bag on an armchair in the corner of the room, I’m given another prime view of his tight ass. A sigh slips from my lips before I can stop it. Next thing I know, he’s chuckling.

  “There are other ways we could burn off the alcohol in your system. Two good looking people like us could have a lot of fun together.” As he’s stepping into a pair of boxers, he throws me a wide-eyed look over his shoulder as if waiting for an answer.

  I’m not normally timid or easily embarrassed, but I nearly faint with the invitation. The desire shining in his eyes licks between my legs like a forked tongue. He’s a big, gorgeous hunk of a man, and he’s clearly not joking.

  It’d be easy to give in and ask him to fuck me senseless. He’d probably be okay with keeping it a casual thing, meaning there wouldn’t be any pressure to stay in touch once I’ve left for Florida. There’s no doubting that I want him to have his way with me again and again until I’m raw. I could really use a little reason to smile. Strike that. More like a big reason—namely the one that just disappeared inside his boxers.

  So why does it seem impossible to let the thought of John go, and have a little fun with another man?

  Trapped by my indecisiveness, I’m unable to move a muscle as he saunters over to me. All at once I’m light-headed, and waver on my feet.

  I fall.

  I’m floating along in a cocoon of hard muscles and the most divine scent that reminds me of my favorite little swanky restaurant in downtown Miami—a blend of smoky embers and intrigue. When I move my butt, I realize I’m being carried and held against a warm, thick body. The skin-on-skin contact shoots warm tingles down my limbs.

  My eyelids flip up, finding Asher above me. Holy Hannah, the man’s dark green eyes—surrounded by thick lashes, filled with silvery flakes that catch in the hallway light—are simply breathtaking. And he has the kind of undeniably strong, masculine features that turn heads. Square jaw, strong nose, wide cheekbones. Don’t even get me started on that thick, tousled hair calling to my fingers.

  Though I’ve worked with dozens of
male models, none of them had the natural charm or allure of Asher. In the chaos of the wedding festivities and my refusal to stay completely in the moment, I somehow missed how truly gorgeous he’s become.

  But why am I suddenly attracted to a small-town bartender? I spent 18 years of my life counting down the seconds until I could leave rural Minnesota for something bigger. No way in hell I’m getting involved with someone who’s stuck there.

  “You passed out,” he tells me, his voice just barely above a whisper. “I’m taking you downstairs to make you something to eat.”

  “I passed out?” My voice comes out pinched as a knot of fear stirs in my belly. “I don’t think I’ve done that since high school.” When it was straight up booze involved and not a cocktail of prescription meds. My face turns cold when remembering all the fights with John that revolved around my party habits. By all rights I should hate him for some of the hurtful things he said to me the night he kicked me out.

  Asher’s dark brows furrow. “You look a little pale. Maybe I should take you to the ER.”

  I shake my head vigorously. With my luck, they’d want to pump my stomach and send me to rehab. “No, I’m fine. Probably just dehydrated.”

  I’m thankful when the kitchen’s cedar ceiling comes into view and he sets my butt down on a stool. After giving me a once-over, his lips quirk with a grin. “You gonna be okay to sit here by yourself?”

  “It was a fluke thing,” I insist. “I can’t imagine it will happen again.”

  Asher looks reluctant when he leaves me to poke around in the 2-doored industrial refrigerator across the room. I can’t imagine why my sister and Nolan could possibly need that much cold storage space. Then again, John lived alone in a mansion with two home theaters and seven bedrooms, so I guess there’s no questioning the filthy rich.